Chapter 3: What Kind of Monster Are You
"God, this is going to take forever…" She sighed, exhausted. But Olivia still had a lot of work to do. Rule number 2: Triple check your math.
Olivia's whole body felt stiff. The sun was setting and her neck was starting to kill her. She snapped back out of reality, massaging her tired eyelids and closing her laptop. That was enough numbers for today. Now it was just her and the absolute maze of papers spread throughout her dining room table, floor, coffee table and kitchen counters. Fangtasia's books had more holes than a freaking colander. It was either a miracle, or he must have had glamoured half of the local government by now in order to not get caught.
Olivia tiptoed between the papers carefully placed on the floor, towards the guest bedroom. She had turned it in her own pole studio. Pole dancing was often highly sexualized because of the extremely talented exotic dancers who made it popular or dismissed as a slutty hobby for women seeking the male gaze. But to her, it was anything but. It was art. It required incredible strength from fingers to toes, flexibility and astounding control. And at the end of the day, it was just fun. If only her mother could see it now. Years and years paying for ballet classes at elite schools, and this turned out to be her adult hobby. She would find it hysterically funny - which reminded her, she should call her mother soon.
That had been her routine all week since she moved to Shreveport. Wake up, breakfast, errands, work, order takeout, practice pole until it arrives, eat while watching shitty reality TV and going to bed at around 3 AM. Every couple of days or so, she would call her mom and aunt up in New Jersey. She liked boring, she liked quiet, she wasn't one for too many friends. It was hard given her job and her… Talents. But tonight she still had work to do. Olivia needed signatures from Eric and Pam in order to buy some strategic shell companies to add to their portfolio.
After she ate her food, showered and dressed, Olivia headed over to her least favourite bar, probably ever. She knew Eric was playing her, and she knew Pam had peeked through her stuff while her car was being supposedly "towed". It didn't take her more than 3 seconds to figure out the driver had been glamoured into a Zombie. His head was completely empty. But Pam was right about one thing: she knew everything about her clients, and they knew nothing about her, other than what the Queen commanded. It would be difficult to keep fighting the current if she didn't let them get away with something. But whatever Pam found, thinks she found or even not found, was just crumbs. Olivia had designed it that way.
Rule number 9: no personal belongings. Criminals can't afford to get attached or sentimental. She had to always be prepared to leave and disappear at the drop of a dime, it was simply not worth the risk.
Still, Olivia had to be in control. She had to pull in the reigns tighter, or this horse would certainly get off the path she wanted. And the path was narrow - little room for mistakes. The bar wasn't open yet, but the black leather tufted front door was unlocked. Along with the main entrance, Fangtasia had two other exits. One beside the stage, another one beside the bar. Rule number 5: always know where the exits are. Olivia never knew when she would have to turn a window into a door. Except, in this case, Fangtasia had no freaking windows. Go figure.
"Well, well, well... If it isn't Carmen Electra," Pam smirked from behind the bar. The blonde wore a full vintage pale blue Chanel dress suit while taking glasses out of the sanitizer and drying them spotless.
"Is Eric around? I need both of you to sign some papers," Olivia asked, sitting at the bar, surprised the countertop wasn't sticky like last time.
"He's working."
"In his office?"
"Magister's."
Ah, of course. The vampire who fed on a human in the bathroom. He had broken a vampire rule: no public feeding. Not while the AVL was trying to get the Vampire's Rights Amendment passed in congress, at least. Eric was a good sheriff after all. "Well, some of these are for you anyway."
Olivia opened her briefcase, knowing the documents she needed were at the bottom. She didn't even notice Pam watching her, which is why her question caught her by surprise.
"How did you know about the raid? And about the vampire in the bathroom?"
Maybe she was reckless and shouldn't really have told Eric and tipped away her most well-kept secret. But if Sophie-Anne found out she was here when the raid happened, and Olivia had let it happen… It would be her head on a spike. Lose-lose, either way you sliced it. "I wouldn't be a very good accountant if I didn't."
"Bitch don't be cute with me. How did you know?"
"It is my job to find where your vulnerabilities are and catch them before they catch you. I have my methods, just be glad I caught it in time."
Olivia pushed the papers across the counter with a pen on top. Unsatisfied with the answer, Pam took them. After a minute of scanning the contracts, she started signing on the Xs.
"How come you don't wear them?"
"Wear what?"
"Your earrings."
Olivia froze. Sure, she had rightfully assumed Pam went through her stuff, but there was something oddly invasive about being questioned about it. She tried to change the subject, pulling the papers she needed. "I am wearing earrings, Pamela."
"No, not those tiny pearl ones. Your Van Cleef & Arpels' snowflake earrings."
Olivia paused, feeling her heart tighten on her chest. "They are not for wearing."
"Of course," Pam said after a moment, sliding the papers back across the counter. "It's for running away, isn't it? Baby girl over here needs to jump ship at a moment's notice in case anyone finds out her little secret."
Olivia felt a full-body chill, and her jaw tightened. Could she have figured out? That was impossible. No way.
"Oh yeah. You got me, Pam," she bluffed, putting the documents back in her briefcase and getting ready to leave. She'd be back another night for Eric. "I'm an illegal accountant who has money stashed away in case I ever find out my life is at risk. Which, you know, it's totally silly because I only work for vampires. Who are such upstanding citizens, and all."
"Don't be dense, there's an edict of protection on you. Eric is duty-bound to protect you at all costs. It's partially why you lyin' about who you were pissed me off so much. Had anything happened to Ophelia, it would have been Eric being punished at the Magister tonight."
"I can take care of myself."
Olivia's jaws tightened again as she got up to leave. That little piece of paper literally didn't mean a thing to her. It was protection from Eric she really needed.
Days later and her apartment was starting to look less like a bureaucratic war zone. She was so close to finishing phase 1. Everything had been scanned, accounts were re-wired, shell companies were mostly purchased and everything was going according to plan. But before starting phase 2, she really needed Eric's signature on some documents. There were a few simple rules to successfully commit tax evasion at this scale: As long as your business was under American jurisdiction, the IRS would go after it's money. Pinning tax evasion on a business alone was useless, as companies can be dismantled and disappear overnight. So, the IRS must charge the owner of said business of tax evasion - regardless of the status of the business. But because this was America, the land of corporate loopholes, a business could own another business, which can be owned by another business. Thus, enters Olivia's favourite thing in the world: shell companies. They are basically ghost businesses that only require a name and an address - not even a full one, a PO box is fine.
Olivia set up Fangtasia to be owned by a shell company in Delaware, which is owned by another shell company in Luxemburg, and that one is owned by another company in the Cayman Islands which in turn owned by the shell company in Delaware. The full circle is owned by nobody, but they are all controlled by currently Pamela, and hopefully soon, Eric.
She parked her car in Fangtasia an hour before the club opened as per usual since she didn't want to be around when patrons arrived. The vampire bar-goers who frequented this place gave her the creeps, and the human ones were… Disturbing.
"In and out." She told herself. "Easy peasy."
Eric was in a bad mood. He felt he was playing whack-a-mole these days with the fucking idiots in this town. First, it was Anthony Grey who decided to bite a human in Fangtasia's bathroom - plus getting raided by the cops on top of that. Then, he had to deal with the humans in this hell hole. Starting with the morons in the basement who were caught dealing V while driving drunk. Then, today Eric woke up to the news that some inbred hillbillies torched a nest of vampires killing three of his own kind, of which he managed to catch two. He literally was running out of space in the basement for so much shitfuckery. He swore if he transplanted the brains of these five fucking dimwits into birds, that they would fly backwards. He did not have a moment of fucking peace this week.
When Eric came upstairs from the basement he saw Ginger restocking the bar quietly. She knew not to make a peep when Eric was in a bad mood. And just as a cosmic fuck you from the universe, Eric noticed a certain someone, wearing a nice cream coloured tight dress, an oversized black blazer and perfectly blown-out hair with dark lipstick, was waiting for him. For fuck's sake, not today.
"No." It's all he told Olivia.
She got up from her barstool, already holding fucking papers. "It will only take a minute-"
"I said no," he growled at her, showing his fangs. Ginger ducked behind the bar, shaking. Olivia quietly stood her ground, pouting.
He just could not do this today. Eric lacked the energy and the patience to deal with this woman. He needed a meal, and he needed a fuck, and to be left the fuck alone. He was halfway across the bar floor, headed to his office when he heard her voice again.
"Am I to expect ramson?" She asked in her impossibly bitchy tone.
"Excuse me?"
He stopped and turned on his heels to look at her. Olivia had the audacity to look pissed and she had a small smirk on her face as if she were looking for a fight. "For the people downstairs."
"I beg your fucking pardon?" He lowered his voice. How in the fuck-
No. He was getting quite sick of this cunt knowing things about his bar. Knowing things that she shouldn't. Wasn't it enough that Sophie-Anne gave her the power of holding him by the fucking balls? Did she have to rub it in at every fucking turn? Did she not know who he was? Or what he was?
"I need to know of any upcoming large sums of money. The total is fine, I don't need to know how much you asked for individually."
That was enough. Eric was going to end this game right fucking now.
"Come with me." He ordered, walking past her and grabbing her tight by the bicep.
She whimpered and resisted but he carried on, dragging her across the bar, back to where he came from.
Once she realized where he was taking her, she protested harder. "No! Let me go!" She screamed. "Eric!" she tugged and pushed, clawed at his neck, chest and arm. but his tight grip overpowered her 100 to 1.
The pair submerged into the darkness.
Olivia could not see much once they left the steps illuminated by the bar area. They plunged deep into the dark cold basement, where all she could smell was feces and urine, and mildew. It was freezing cold down here, and Olivia had to stop fighting Eric who dragged her deeper and deeper down the basement, to watch her step. Running away with a twisted ankle would not do.
She was angrier at Eric than scared. That was until she heard the whispers echoing in the basement. It was fear. Pure, instinctual, unadulterated terror. Olivia closed her eyes and focused on pushing the prisoner's panic out of her head. When people had strong emotions, they could often influence her own. And these poor people were absolutely frightened to death. Of death. Of Eric, specifically. Fear was one of the nastier human emotions to witness.
They landed at the bottom of the stairs, on solid dirty and wet concrete, and Eric finally let go of her arm, by pushing her forward into the darkness. The stench was turning her stomach. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, it took her a minute to understand what she was seeing. There was an enormous - maybe 6 foot wide, half a foot thick - spur gear attached to the ceiling. 5 sharp spikes protruded from it, straight down, almost touching the floor. On each spike, a man was collared and chained to it. They wouldn't even look up at her. On one of the basement's support columns was a wooden bucket tied to it. She realized it was their toilet, and they had to rotate the heavy gear on the ceiling to use it - one at a time, in front of the others.
She was going to throw up.
The men crawled scared on the dirty floor, away from her, shaking and whimpering. Their fear became overwhelming, waking Olivia up. She looked for Eric, who quietly paced around the dark empty basement, watching her reaction. He was a lion, meticulously watching the gazelle's next move.
Focus Olivia. She took a deep breath, slowly. Think of the rules. Rule number 5: Know where the exits are. She couldn't see any other doors in this place, but the staircase was right behind her, maybe 4 feet. Rule number 7: always carry silver. Her silver-tipped pen was inside her briefcase up at the bar. Fuck-
"How did you know about them? How do you know anything?!" Eric asked angrily, from somewhere in the darkness that she couldn't see.
"I'm an account-"
"STOP LYING TO ME!" He roared, making the whole place vibrate with the deep echo of his voice.
The men at her feet started to cry in fear, she had to suppress their loudness away.
"Vermins," he declared. "Which one of you knows her?"
No one said a word. In fact, she was pretty sure the prisoners stopped breathing. Eric leaned beside a bearded man who was covered in filthy clothes and grabbed the back of his neck.
"You. Do you know the pretty lady?" He asked quietly, but the man did not answer. Tears were going down his face, making Olivia's heart sink a little. "Look at her. I SAID LOOK!"
She could not see much of Eric's face, as it was covered by his long hair. But his fangs glistened in the little light that entered the room. The human slowly opened eyelids, trembling. When he looked at Olivia, she saw a man who was dead inside, long ago. What had he done to these men?
"I don't!" He cried out.
With a loud roar, Eric lifted the man's whole body like a ragdoll. The human screamed, and Olivia had to cover her mouth not to do so too. Eric sunk teeth on the man's leg, who flayed like a fish, trying to get loose. Olivia was thankful for the darkness. She could hear bones being crushed and flesh tearing, the man's scream filling her head. Fear and adrenaline flooding her own body. She felt hot blood splash on her stomach and her arms, and suddenly the man went quiet. Eric dropped the body on the floor, near Olivia's feet. He was in pieces.
She took two steps back, in shock. Legs, arms, half a torso, exposed muscles, bones and guts amidst the torn clothing, no head. A whole person, torn to pieces in a pile a foot away from her.
Eric emerged from the shadows, stepping over the human he just shredded to pieces. His black clothing didn't show, but the pale skin of his arms and chest and face was covered in crimson blood. His long regal blonde hair was half dipped in red. She knew Eric was about to make her watch five brutal murders until she confessed who she was.
Rule number 1: absolutely under no circumstances-
"Who told you?" His eyes were cold, and blue and looked deeply into her own with absolute fury.
Eric stepped over the chucks of body parts, and came close, his chest slightly touching her torso. He was again, trying to intimidate her with his monstrous body. Blood dripped from his chin and onto her collarbone. She did not know why, but Eric pressing his body against her did not frighten her. In fact, it woke something rather lively in her: anger.
"No one told me." She confronted his gaze with her own.
"How did you know about the raid?!"
Olivia repeated her most important rule in her head. Rule number 10: if you are going to bluff, always double down. "I saw a guy wearing an earpiece. And it wasn't the Bluetooth kind. Plus, I can spot a cop a mile away, can't you?"
Her dad taught her rule 10. It was by far the riskiest and most nerve-racking to use. Always double down Liv, half-assing it will only get you killed, she remembered her dad telling her this with his large and heavy hands on her shoulders, so vividly.
"How did you know about the human in the bathroom?"
"Overheard him begging the vampire to be bitten. Well, he wanted to get laid, I assumed it involved biting."
"How did you know about the humans in the basement?"
Because you left your fucking bartender in charge of giving them water, and she's terrified of coming down here alone. And fear was about as quiet as crashing a cymbal. Olivia hated to do this, but she was going to have to throw poor Ginger under the bus.
"I saw Ginger bring them water on Sunday. She took a tray with 5 cups of water and disappeared into the basement, she came back up with 5 empty cups. I figured you didn't have a VIP lounge down here. Not one that served water, anyway."
"You are lying to me," Eric said calmly as he caressed her hair, spreading warm blood all over it. She felt a shiver of disgust take over her body.
Rule number 10. Rule number 10. Rule. Number. 10.
Olivia took off her blazer with haste, ignoring the blood all over it, and folded it in half twice before tossing up on the third step of the stairs behind them. She pushed up the long sleeves of her dress and raised her wrists together, up to her eye-level. Eric angrily watched her, but his expression stayed the same.
"Well?" She asked full of sarcasm. "Are you going to chain me up or not? I see you just made some space."
Eric slightly smirked, but Olivia didn't think it was because he found her question funny. Maybe Eric did want to imprison her down here and do God knows what with her - but that would go against the Queen's edict.
"It goes around your neck, actually," the way he looked at her changed. It was softer and enticing. Rule number 10, she had to keep going.
Olivia then gathered all her hair and scrunched it up, exposing her neck. She looked him right in the eyes and waited.
"Well go on, Eric. I get paid the hour." She dared him, raising an eyebrow.
Do it. Do it you vile monster. Break the Queen's edict and see what happens.
What happened next happened so fast it was mostly a blur. All she could hear was bones breaking and screams of agony. The men's fears paralyzed her. Blood exploded everywhere, and this time, she felt actual pieces of guts stick to her dress and legs. She involuntarily stepped back and tripped over the first step, and fell onto it, sitting front row on the world's most gory horror show. And before she knew it, it was over. Silence again. Of all kinds. No more fear, other than maybe her own. Eric had killed all the other four humans. He submerged from the darkness, covered in red, and put his foot on the first step but stopped, looking at her shaking.
"Do not ever defy me in front of humans again."
Olivia was too petrified to look up at him when he spoke. Her eyes fixed on the carnage. Eric left the basement, and left the door open behind, letting the bar's light shine on the horrific scene in front of her.
She lost track of time, but when Olivia managed to walk back on the club floor, it was dead empty. A stack of papers was neatly stacked on top of her briefcase - Eric had signed them. Quickly and without thinking, Olivia grabbed her stuff and ran out. Her mind was in a fog. She didn't even remember the drive home, parking or even getting home. Her mind came back online when she violently threw up in her kitchen sink.
"Holy shit," she gasped, catching her breath. Only now she realized how much covered in blood she really was. But that was not what worried her the most. "That was close..."
Too close. Everything she had ever endured, everything she had ever sacrificed would have been out of the window, had she broken the most important rule of them all:
Rule number 1: absolutely under no circumstances tell anyone you are a telepath.
A.N.: HELLO
Thank you again so much for all the love and attention this story has gotten so far! I also received some very useful feedback, much appreciated.
I know OC being a telepath, sassy and smart version of Sookie has been done to death - but Olivia will be the furthest thing from Sookie I can imagine. In fact, this will be an enemies to lovers kind of story which I find oddly lacking in this fandom.
xoxo til next time